


A Little Spell

by scarsaw



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen, Puppies, excuse to write fluff, puppies everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:51:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarsaw/pseuds/scarsaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Loki attempts to cast a spell, to weave truth from others' lies. Instead Thor gets caught in the explosion when things go wrong and becomes. A puppy. </p><p>Crack, crack, more crack and mindless brotherly fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Spell

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this gif set (http://westwicks.tumblr.com/post/13976894018). Is there anyone who looks at Thor and doesn't see a golden retriever?

The spell backfires spectacularly. Loki sits in the debris where he’s been thrown, stunned by the explosion triggered by so light a touch. It takes a moment for him to remember that Thor is here too; he’d heard his brother’s voice calling right before he touched the glowing stone, words of power twisting themselves into commands and—

Where  _is_ Thor?

He gets to his feet, dusting himself off, checking briefly to see that there are no wounds created by flying shrapnel.

“Thor,” he calls, then more loudly, “Thor! Where are you?”

No answer. For a long, silent, terrifying second, Loki’s heart stops. No, no no no, has Thor been caught in the centre of the blast? That can’t be, it can’t be, Thor cannot-

And then he hears a small snuffling noise in the dead quiet of the room. It repeats itself, before emerging as a soft bark. 

Loki holds his breath as he approaches the ruined plinth where the stone had rested. A pile of pebbles shift and a dusty puppy crawls out from underneath it, wagging its tail in recognition when it catches sight of Loki. It barks again, more brightly and happily, and runs over on clumsy legs to bite at Loki’s boot. 

Oh, by the Norns.

This is even worse than he expected. Mother is going to  _kill_  him.

A winged shadow near the doorway flutters off as he grabs hold of his brother-turned-puppy.

—

Night falls without anyone being the wiser. Loki has cleaned the room up with his fledgling magic, and by the end the room looks much as it had been. Thor seems content to stay quiet under his shirt until they are safely back in their rooms. He catches a servant to tell him that the princes will dine in their rooms that night, (hardly an unusual occurrence now that the both of them have begun serious study into war and magic), and takes the trays himself into the room (much to the puzzlement of the man who nevertheless shrugs and chalks it down to Loki’s eccentricities). 

Thor is running around the room now, after Loki has cleaned him of the dust, a golden little puppy. Loki must admit he doesn’t much see a difference, although his parents might have different views on the matter. 

“Cease that, you little brute,” he snaps, when Thor looks as if he would start chewing on Loki’s book bag, and the puppy stands down, head hung at the sharpness of Loki’s voice. The younger prince blinks, a little taken aback and perhaps on the edge of remorse when the puppy trundles over and snuffs around his legs instead, tugging and pulling at the hem of his trousers. 

Loki snorts in incredulity, that Thor retains so much of his mannerisms even as a dog. Then again, there are some who have compared Thor thus before…

“What do you want now?” he demands, picking the animal up and poking it mercilessly. “You unruly creature, you give me trouble as a man  _and_ as a dog. Are you hungry? Do you want to play? Because I’ll feed you, but I won’t throw sticks for you to fetch.”

The puppy barks at him, and attempts to lick him in response, to which Loki sputters at. “Cease!” he growls again, and holds the puppy further from him. “Here, you can have the meat from your plate, and if you eat anything from mine, I’ll have your head.”

He sets the puppy down onto the floor, and places a drumstick from the tray down next to Thor, who begins chewing away with great enthusiasm. 

Now that the puppy is suitably distracted… Loki throws himself into his chair, frustrated and helpless. The spell he was working had nothing to do with transformation, why did it turn Thor into an animal? Granted, an animal that reflected him, but—

Reflection.

Loki stares at Thor suspiciously. The runes he’d carved on the stone were for truth, the spell one designed to give Loki truth from others’ lying mouths. But his spells are rarely perfect, and a mistranslation, a rune placed wrongly… And a stone Loki doesn’t even fully understand the properties of. He groans aloud; Thor stops his meal to look up in query. Well, at least he supposes it is a stroke of luck that it is not Loki who has been turned, or he would probably have spent his own life stuck as some animal. Perhaps a snake, or a cat, if that is the way the spell works. 

He tries to spent the rest of the night in researching a way to return Thor to his original self, but is thwarted by the puppy’s constant need for attention, games and affection. 

Loki resigns himself to being found out by their parents before he can find a cure for his brother.  _Farewell Asgard_ , he thinks mournfully as he sinks down into his bed into uneasy sleep, and the puppy licks him comfortingly on the nose as he follows him into the large, comfortable nest of blankets and furs.

—

The third morning dawns with Loki a disheveled mess. His room is messier than it has ever been, not with books and quills and ink as per the norm, but with the debris of a young animal crashing everywhere into his belongings and deciding that certain spots would be ideal for relieving himself. Loki drags a palm down his face and steels himself for a long day at the library. There has been nothing in even his books so far- there must be something in the extensive royal collection. If there is nothing even there, then Loki fears he must confess at last. Thor cannot remain a dog forever, and already Fandral has come knocking the day before. Curse Thor and his too-close, too-loyal group of friends.

The puppy wags his tail energetically when Loki rises, entangling himself around Loki’s legs as if to trip him, and Loki is very tempted to kick his brother out of the way. He desists. 

Still, he supposes there is some sort of charm to his brother when he looks this way, a naivety that surpasses even his usual blitheness, (he thinks he might even miss the small fuzzy furnace in his bed when Thor returns to his usual shape), and Loki allows a small smile at the edge of his thin lips. 

They have been growing apart for some time, only Thor doesn’t realize it. True, they are still brothers, and Loki still loves his brother, but sometimes there is a growing unease that he is not part of them, of Asgard. There is an irrational suspicion, and beyond that, a feeling of unwelcome, especially by some of the older Asgardians. His grasp of magic, so effortless and natural, alienate the melee-loving race he calls his kin. 

But surely they will come to see his strengths. Come to love the younger prince as they do the older. There cannot only be day, there must be night as well, and Loki is only the natural opposite of his brother. They are one unit surely.

With that sentimental thought, he smiles faintly, and brushes the top of Thor’s head.

“Come along, you rogue,” he says, “we’re going to the library. And you’d best stay quiet or I’ll skin you and make you a rug upon my bed, and the people of Asgard will never know where their first prince went.”

—

Thor is surprisingly well-behaved out of the confines of their room, and Loki has to wonder just how much Thor comprehends as a dog. Still, it is a boon and he doesn’t intend to question it. 

He spends hours in there, keeping an eye on Thor every now and then, though for the most part, the puppy merely snuffles along the edges of the shelves and butts his head against the spines. After a while spent chasing his tail and playing catch with imaginary enemies, he goes to sleep nudged up against Loki’s leg. 

Loki withholds a sigh and continues to read.

He grows so absorbed in the pages that he does not notice when a shadow appears, and his father in the wake of it.

“Loki.”

Almost, he jumps in fright- _no, it’s Father, he knows, shit, he knows_ \- but he turns around slowly, and rises as elegantly, careful not to wake Thor.

“Father,” he acknowledges, and hopes that Odin does not see the furry little bundle half-hidden at his feet. “What brings you here? Do you have need of me?” 

Odin raises an eyebrow. “I was merely passing by. Can a father not talk to his son?” On his shoulder, Huginn tilts its head, its bright eyes unsettling and piercing on Loki. The younger prince averts his gaze, bringing it back to the sharper one-eyed stare of his father.

“Of course he may. Is everything alright?”

He tries not to squirm under Odin’s eye, as he used to do when he was younger, centuries ago. After what seems like a too-long time, Odin acquiesces, and turns towards a shelf of books, letting his finger trail idly along the spines, along titles and runes.

“Your brother seems to have gone missing,” he remarks, “although I have no doubt he’s run off with one of the Warriors Three for a spell.” 

Loki feels his stomach clench unpleasantly. Somehow Odin’s words seem to carry more weight than they suggest. 

His father continues carelessly. “If you see him, tell him that a dinner with your mother would not go amiss to reassure her of his wellbeing.” He picks out a book from the far end of a shelf, flipping through it before setting it down on the table. “You should dine with your mother as well, she has not sat down with you in nearly a week. Study hard.”

And with that, he sweeps out, Huginn turning backwards as if to watch Loki from Odin’s back. Loki stifles an urge to shiver- he has never really liked that bird. But more mystifying is Odin’s sudden appearance, and his enigmatic words. He almost runs to pick up the book Odin has picked out, and before long, his blood runs cold.

Odin knows.

He staggers back in his chair, knocking Thor awake, who yelps in protest. The book is not precisely an instruction manual to restore his brother, but it contains enough information for Loki to do so. This is no coincidence. At the same time… 

Odin has not raged or smote him down. Surely that is good enough, although Loki wonders at his father’s intentions and thoughts. Odin had not even seemed angry, merely thoughtful.

He glances between the book, his brother and the doorway. How curious.

—

“Ah, being a man is better than being a dog,” is the first thing Thor says when he stretches his lanky frame, and Loki snorts.

“You’re barely a man,” he retorts, closing the book and scowling. “Still half a boy. Aren’t you even going to offer your thanks?”

Thor shrugs. “You almost rolled onto me in your sleep and killed me a fair number of times, and besides you were the one who turned me into a dog-"

“I see. No thanks,” Loki sneers. “Well that should teach you to come sniffing around when I’m casting spells.” Then a thought hits him and he glares sharply at Thor. “Wait, if you remember everything as a dog, then how do you explain the scent-marking in my—”

“We should clean up and go down to dine with our mother, my dearest brother,” Thor sings out loud, slipping around his indignant younger brother before Loki can turn him back into a dog. “After all, isn’t that what Father suggested?”

One of these days, Loki swears, he is going to murder Thor in his sleep.


End file.
